You

They say there is a window from one heart to another
How can there be a window where no wall remains?"
-Rumi


The importance of the look. That's how all of this started. When we sat together, alone, for the first time, and a curtain rose up quickly: "now is the time; it's finally your show". The reasons that your heart aches. The ways in which I let go of mine. Why did you tell me things that are reserved only for the most trustworthy, to the ones closest to your heart and mind? Why did I tell you mine?

The look. There we were in a group of our friends, laughing at something because everyone else was, listening and nodding, but there you were, for those few seconds, returning the same eyes back at me: studying something fervently, with the cool and calmness as if nothing is out of the ordinary. But here's the thing: things already started slowly crumbling, strikingly. Something about you was out of the ordinary.

A feeling of knowing, marked with the desire to discover the unknown. You. Layer by layer, exposing the insides, the beautiful insides of you.

I shiver when we sit on the bench. My smoke is my breath's particles freezing in the frigid cold. Yours is from another cigarette. Are there stars out tonight? Can we see them? Where is it that we are, because I only seem to remember your face. I let my knee rest on your leg, the warmth of the small interaction soothes me; the same way you warm me with your smile, touch, kiss, laughter, words, look, you.

You breathe into my arm, up and down, each finger one by one, trying to catch and remember my scent when I lie next to you. When you leave I search the depths of my pillow and sheets to see if there are any remaining traces of you. Some things stay with me even after the sheets are washed.


Time makes no sense in all of this; that is, the way it passes. Has it been five hours already? But I have so much more to tell you. I want to listen to you for days, a break to soak it all in, then repeat.

An open book, you are. No suspicions or questions, you are simply laid out for me. I read each word of you carefully, surprised at my complete understanding. Do you know a synonym for 'us'? It's patience. I want to find the most felicitous sentences to show you that my overflow of impulses to grab and then grasp you, not just you but what's inside of you, has one purpose: you, you, you. Sometimes I'm at a loss for words, they don't come as quickly, as perfectly, as I'd like. So I take your hands in mine and with honest eyes tell you one thing: please, hold on.

There are plenty of birds in the sky, I know; but you, but you, you're my favorite one.

- Magdelena Viktoria.

I love you

"I love you" he says to her.

She looks at him for a moment. She knows where this is going and her thoughts knew.
His intentions are the same. Love? It's so cliche.

The difference

A lot of change. I'm worried.